


Tell Your Heart to Beat Again

by theSapphireSky



Series: The Detective and the Pathologist [17]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst and Feels, Canon Divergence - The Reichenbach Fall, F/M, I promise, Songfic, at the end, good feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-25 20:32:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6209062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theSapphireSky/pseuds/theSapphireSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would have happened if Molly hadn’t helped Sherlock fake his death and thought he was dead for those 2 years...<br/>Inspired by the song Tell Your Heart to Beat Again by Danny Gokey</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I listened to this song literally all day today (it’s a good rainy day song). And it made me want to write some Sherlolly. 

John watched with a heavy heart as Sherlock shrugged his coat on and flipped up the collar. 

‘How long?’

Sherlock paused in the process of buttoning his coat. ‘I don’t know.’

The quiet of the morgue descended between them. Outside, an army of reporters, coppers, and bystanders filled the street. All waiting for the official news that the great Consulting Detective was dead.

‘What about Molly?’ 

Sherlock almost imperceptibly flinched at John’s question. ‘What about her?’

‘Sherlock, the woman loves you.’ John’s face twisted in a grimace, his eyes softening in compassion. ‘This... this is going to kill her.’

No emotion passed over Sherlock’s face, but John was more observant than the detective gave him credit for. The usual hardness, disinterest lining Sherlock’s eyes softened slightly.  

‘She is Molly Hooper,’ Sherlock said, turning to look at John with a solemn expression. ‘She is the strongest person I know. And she will survive.’

* * *

**Two Years Later**

Freshly shaved and still a bit sore from Serbia, Sherlock strode into the restaurant with a determined glare, immediately narrowing in on the couple in the far corner. Dressed in a soft yellow dress with her long, brown hair pulled back in a french braid, Molly Hooper sat with her back to him, sharing an intimate meal with a curly-haired man who was clearly uncomfortable in his suit and fidgeting nervously, unable to look away from the woman across from him.

 _About to propose._  The words danced across Sherlock’s vision, taunting him. 

Easily swiping an apron and order pad from behind the hostess station, Sherlock wove through the tables toward the back.

‘-amazing. I know the past few years have been hard for you, and I just count myself so, so lucky that you agreed to have coffee with me,’ the man was speaking lowly, his voice shaky with emotion. Sherlock immediately swung around, busying himself rearranging the table behind them.

‘I know it’s only been six months, but I can’t imagine my life without you by my side.’

‘Tom-’ Molly’s desperate whisper was barely audible. 

The snap of a velvet box opening stopped Sherlock’s heart and he froze. 

‘Molly Hooper, will you marry me?’ 

Sherlock held his breath, gripping the back of the chair to keep himself from turning around. His knuckles turned white as the silence stretched. 

Finally, Molly spoke, her voice barely a hoarse whisper.

‘I can’t.’ 

Tom sighed. ‘It’s him, isn’t it? The one you lost.’

‘You can’t lose something you never had,’ she said sadly. ‘But yes. I’m so sorry, I do love you, I just...’

‘Loved him more,’ Tom finished for her resignedly. A muffled sob was his answer.

Sherlock couldn’t bear to hear any more, guilt crushing him, an enormous weight on his chest, pressing down on his lungs until it hurt to breathe.

As Molly and Tom composed themselves, Sherlock slipped out the back. 

* * *

It was a rare cloudless night and the full moon illuminated the graveyard as Molly wove through the graves before finally coming to a stop in front of the familiar onyx headstone.

A small smile played on her lips as she touched the cold stone and wiped a stray tear away.

‘Hi Sherlock. I know it’s been a few months since I visited.’ She stepped back. ‘Not that you would have probably noticed, even if you were alive.’

‘Don’t make small talk, Molly,’ she said in a deep, faux baritone then laughed softly. The breeze cut through the yard and she shivered, sobering quickly as she hugged her arms around her middle. ‘Tom proposed tonight. And I told him no.’

Biting her lips, she tilted her head back and blinked back tears. ‘I honestly thought I could move on, pick up the pieces and fall in love again. Because I don’t want to be-,’ her voice broke and the tears started falling. ‘I don’t want to be in love with you anymore. You didn’t love me before and you can’t love me now.’

She was crying openly now. ‘The day you died, it was like my heart stopped beating. I don’t think I even breathed that first week. I kept expecting you to walk through the door, sweep into the morgue, as if you’d just been away on a case.’

‘Then six months had gone by and it started to sink in that you were never coming back. Every morning I had to keep telling my heart to keep beating, that I would get through this. And when Tom asked me out, I... I honestly thought I could fall in love again. He was sweet, kind, romantic... the perfect man.’

Her voice was barely a whisper as she struggled to speak. ‘But he wasn’t you. I don’t want perfect. I only want you.’ 

Covering her mouth, her shoulders shook as she cried, unable to stay strong any longer.

Until a voice spoke behind her.

‘Hello, Molly.’

Her heart stopped and she hiccuped a sob, sure her ears were playing tricks on her. Slowly, she turned around and her eyes widened.

Standing just out of arm’s reach was a dead man. His curls were shorn and his cheekbones were a bit more defined than she remembered, but it was him. Sherlock Holmes. Alive and staring at her with an intensity she’d never seen before.

Dazed, she took a step closer. His face was open and tear tracks marked his cheeks. She reached up and cautiously traced her fingers along his cheek, gasping at the warmth she found.

She took in the new scars and lines, her heart aching at the pain behind his eyes. Brushing her thumb at a tear that fell down his cheek, her bottom lip trembled and her own tears started anew. He turned into her touch and covered her hand with his, closing his eyes. His body shuddered and another tear escaped as his resolve crumbled.

Standing on her toes, Molly slipped her arms around his neck and held him tight, crying into his coat.

And when his arms wrapped around her and he buried his head in the curve of her neck, his tears staining her scarf...

...for the first time in two years her heart finally beat again.


	2. Say Goodbye to Where You've Been

Molly woke slowly, every muscle in her body aching. Opening her eyes, she frowned in confusion, wondering why her curtains were closed, why she was on the wrong side of the bed and why she felt so exhausted. 

Then the memories of the night before came rushing back. Tom’s proposal, her rejection, visiting Sherlock’s grave...

_Sherlock._

Gasping, she jerked upright and looked beside her. 

The bed was empty there was no sign of anyone else having slept there.

Her eyes filled with tears and she pulled her knees into her chest. It had been a dream. A vivid, heartbreaking dream. Of course it had been. Because Sherlock was dead. 

Her shoulders began to shake and she buried her head in her knees, letting out a gut-wrenching cry.

Suddenly, the bed dipped and there were strong hands pulling her against a solid body, peeling her arms away from her knees. She struggled, her mind and emotions in such a quandary, but found herself trapped in a strong hold. 

‘I’m here, I’m right here,’ the familiar, never forgotten baritone promised. Somehow he had maneuvered them so she was between his long legs, back against his chest, his arms wrapped around her waist. Molly clutched his arms and turned her head into his chest as she cried.

Sherlock’s heartbeat pounded against her ear and gradually her cries slowed. Each  _thump_ of his heart a reminder that he was right there. 

‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispered, his voice hoarse and low.

Molly took a deep breath. ‘What happened?’ The simple question held two years’ worth of weight and the silence that descended between them only made her more anxious. She was grateful that she couldn’t see his face, see the cold mask he’d put up while he figured a way out of telling her anything. She wasn’t important, after all.

To her surprise, Sherlock tightened his hold on her and began to explain, about Moriarty, about the final problem, the guns trained on the people most important to him...

‘Lestrade and Mrs Hudson, John, obviously, though he easily overpowered his assassin.’ He paused for a moment. ‘And you.’

Molly sucked in a breath. ‘Me?’

‘I thought Moriarty would overlook you if I was careful, if I didn’t let on just how much you... matter to me,’ he admitted the last part quietly and almost reverently. 

Heart beating furiously, Molly tilted her head up. Sherlock looked down at her, his face no longer covered in the cold mask she remembered. Rather it was lined with warmth and sorrow and a thousand emotions he’d never shown so openly before. 

He lifted his hand and traced his fingers down her cheek, wiping away the tear tracks. She leaned into his touch, never taking her gaze from his. 

Licking her lips, she whispered, ‘Why did you do this? Why did you let us all believe you were dead?’

‘To protect you.’ His eyes flashed dangerously as he said, ‘Moriarty’s web was intricate and far-reaching. I needed time to unravel it, without his partners looking over their shoulders to see me coming and using my friends as a weakness against me. I needed to die.’

Her bottom lip trembled and tears filled her eyes. ‘So you were alone all this time?’

A small smile played in the corner of his mouth. ‘Always worrying about me, Molly Hooper.’ 

The temptation to smile back was great. Instead, she turned her head and resumed her original position, back against his chest. His hand hovered in the air for a moment before he wrapped it around her once more. 

‘But it’s done,’ he continued. ‘You’re safe.’

His story complete, silence fell between them. Molly was struggling to understand, to believe, that he was really alive and holding her. Her fingers dug into the flesh of his arms, anchoring him to her, as if he would vanish if she let go.

Sherlock was waiting with bated breath for her to say something. She had been the driving force behind his mission, keeping him sane in the darkest of nights, the nights when loneliness and despair would have driven him to find a hit. During those two years, the little feelings he’d harbored for her had grown, and it wasn’t until he’d seen her standing by his graveside that he realized that _she_ was his heart all along, wherever she was was home.

‘You heard me at the graveside, didn’t you?’ Molly suddenly asked, her voice timid. 

Sherlock’s initial surprise at the sudden change of topic faded to guilt. ‘Yes.’

‘So you know that I still... you know,’ she trailed off, the tips of her ears burning bright red. 

A weight rolled off his shoulders. ‘Yes.’ 

‘Right,’ she nodded, feeling a flush of humiliation.

‘Molly, look at me.’ Sherlock coaxed her softly, cupping her cheek when she refused and turning her so he could see her profile. She kept her eyes lowered, but he could see the tears that were threatening to escape. ‘I love you, too.’

Her eyes flew to his. 

Sherlock smiled softly. He glanced down at her lips then slowly, so as to give her time to move away, he leaned down. When he brushed his lips against hers, his heart jolted in his chest. 

The kiss was short, but it was enough. Molly pulled back, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks rosy. Then, like a switch had been flipped, the dazzled look was gone and her eyes were dancing with fire.

‘All this doesn’t mean that I’m not completely and utterly angry with you,’ she whispered hotly and once more turned her head and settled back against his chest.

He brushed his nose against her temple and smirked when she shivered. ‘I know.’

It was a promising start. He still had two years to make up to her, but sitting on her bed, holding her close, he knew it was only a matter of time until she forgave him. 

And he wasn’t going to let a single day go by without making sure she knew how deeply, fully, and completely he loved her.


End file.
